Dribbles & Drabbles
by CanTheLaughter
Summary: Just a collection of dribbles and drabbles. Sasuke/Naruto. Of course.


**1. Pick a character or pairing you like for each drabble.**  
**2. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.**  
**3. Write a drabble related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards!**  
**4. Do ten of these, then post them!**  
**5. ENJOY.**

**I got carried away and did 11. (:**

* * *

**Until The Earth Begins To Part** – Broken Records

They lay in the grass that sunk and bellowed in long, lingering strands about their ears and cheeks with their pinkies not quite touching. Sasuke could feel the heat rolling off the other in thick, panted waves. It tickled at the edges of him, pooling in his stomach and in that not-quite-there distance between them. Sasuke angled a sidelong glance at the boy who lay beside him. His eyes were shut, lips slightly parted as he breathed heavily.

Sasuke smiled – long and delicious. His hand moved – one twitch, one tiny stretch – until his pinkie brushed lightly, shyly against the other. The contact brought a faint shock within his chest and stomach and he bit down on the inside of his cheek before moving his hand away.

He nodded inwardly to himself. He knew.

**Prophets Of War** – Dream Theatre

When Naruto was angry he would declare it as openly as he could. His eyes would flash – all splinters of sea glass and tacky sky – and a firm crease would weave between his eyebrows. His cheeks would flush a delicious red that would make Sasuke curl within himself and swear. He would push his shoulders up, bellowing his chest out and clench his fists. You could almost see the thoughts that scurried across his face, could almost hear his brain ticking and creaking as his anger and adrenaline churned through his head. His anger was open and he bared it proudly. He wore it as a warning, as a challenge and that obnoxious, confident frowned drenched grin would make Sasuke scratch with pure loathing within his head.

**Cross The Line** – Fiction Plane

There was always a crack that split it delicately into two parts. It was thin and weak and thready but it sat like oil in water. They toed the line with an open carelessness that really sunk much further below to a carefully hidden caution. When fists met flesh and nails kissed blood each blow and insult was coiled within that unspoken barrier. It was hard to see, barely acknowledged by either. But it was there. It sat like snake in the pit of each of their stomachs – sick and nasty. But it was there, and it begged to be crossed, begged to be abused and destroyed. They hovered on the cliff edge of a dangerous uncertainty with only that thinly veiled caution holding them back. It contained them and it made them but most of all it prevented them from being what they really needed to be.

**Get Off My Back** – Bryan Adams

"Will you just get off my back already?!"

Sasuke grinned – though you could hardly call it that for all its twistedness and cruelty. It was more of a smirk – a sickening one at that. He did not reply as he surveyed the boy before him. He loved this. He loved the frustration that rolled off the boy in waves of nativity.

"But where would the fun in that be?" Sasuke replied, raising a careful eyebrow. He wanted to laugh.

**Where I Go** – Red Hot Chilli Peppers

It all seemed quite meaningless in the end. They set out on this silly little path and ended up at the same boring old inevitable bus stop as everyone else. All that tedious blood and sweat and tears and clichés – all for nothing in the end. All that delicious power earned and nurtured, all that effort wasted. How pathetic it seemed in the end. We weren't really heading anywhere. These thoughts made Sasuke want to grasp his wrist and press his fingers into it and hold it tight. To pin him there – like an insect – and tell him that it was all going to go to shit anyway and that we might as well do the very last thing we wanted to do – for the sake of it. It didn't matter what we did because where we went – that was it. Never mind our mistakes and decisions and twisted dreams – we didn't hold the cards. And all these petty little thinkings – that's what made him want it.

**Little Motel** – Modest Mouse

They lay in the greasy sheets with their chests rising and falling out of rhythm. The lights were dim, the air musty and over used. The paint was cracked, the shoddy furniture chipped and the tide line of the bath stained. It was all so _cliché_. And it was perfect. Soaked in deceit and lust and disappointment in a stale, seedy cage that wrung its hands. It was _perfect_. It revolted him and made his stomach twist and plunge, and it was so achingly _perfect_. Because in that white tinged moment of crackling stars and waves of dissatisfied pleasure – it wasn't _him_. It was wrong and perfect and _it wasn't him_. And this time, he could forgive himself. Because that was the way it was meant to be.

**To Leave It Behind** – Great Lake Swimmers

It was easy to leave. Far too easy. He wasn't going to miss it – and this wasn't a lie. It was like being unshackled – wrists and neck and heart finally freed of a cold, heavy chain. He could breathe again – think again. He felt hot and cold and himself. He was free. And it felt glorious and it felt so easy. Painless. He felt no hesitation, no crumbling urges or guilt. This was it and he had made it. He stretched a smile across his cheeks and he did not turn back to look at Sasuke's body. It was easy to leave. Far too easy.

**Drowned **– Tim Minchin

Naruto peeled the shirt from his body – muscles in his stomach and back twitching and squirming beneath his skin as his arms twisted above his head to remove the item. It was thrown carelessly to the ground and lay in a sodden, silent heap. Sasuke looked carefully at the boy before him – head tilted ever-so-slightly to the right as his eyes followed a stray bead of water that trickled shyly down the golden plane of Naruto's stomach. Sasuke's face remained perfectly blank as he watched it. A pearly shard of colourless glass that glistened almost golden in the light and upon its surface. It was slow, unsure – rolling apologetically over muscles until it came to its finish at the waistband of Naruto's shorts. Sasuke raised his eyes to meet Naruto's own that looked unsurprised.

**Fallow **– Fiction Plane

"Nothing."

The answer meant little to Naruto. He knew this already, he had always known it. It was a seed in his mind that did not germinate into anything more for fear of discovering something he did not yet want to find. He watched Sasuke's face – noting its tense angles and lines and shadows. His skin was pale and his eyes were hard and blank. Naruto found it quite impressive he could look so ridiculously emotionless all the time. But this thought comforted him in a way – because under such painstakingly crafted blankness something else must cower. Something that shamed and scared Sasuke with such intensity he buried it under cool glares and thin lips. This made Naruto smile because he knew that he would dig and scratch and claw at that thick layer of roughly applied paint until he found it.

**Sleeping Sickness** – City & Colour

It was his dreams he feared most. In them colours and shapes shifted and blinked at him – they uncoiled in indistinguishable shades and forms that he tried half heartedly to grasp yet failed to capture and examine. They slipped through his fingers and laughed at him. They smelt of innocence and incest. A stench of laughter and noise and light that made him feel violently ill and feverish. It was all too close and warm and real. He wanted it too much. This scared him – this wanting. He didn't know how to hold it – like a tiny, fragile new born baby with its weak neck and wailing mouth. And not knowing – that scared him more than anything else.

**Goodbye, Goodnight** – Jars Of Clay

Naruto decided – lying in the cool moonlight that licked at his ears – that it wasn't goodbyes that were the worst. All those tears and sniffling farewells – they were nothing. Easy to act, to twist in any way you wanted. No, they were nothing of importance. They weren't held in memory. No, it was hellos that were the worst. Greetings, meetings, first impressions. They'd make you or break you. First footprint in the sand, first brush stroke on the canvas. Not easily erased, not easily conducted. Naruto decided – just there and then – that the people that judged him on the first clumsy words out his mouth were the ones best left to farewells.


End file.
